the lucky bra
by lauraxtennant
Summary: The Doctor helps Rose search for something she's lost on board the TARDIS.


"Rose…what are you doing?"

The Doctor had walked into the laundry room on the TARDIS to see Rose bent over with her head in the dryer, ostensibly searching for something. At his question, she slowly straightened up and turned, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Nothing."

He folded his arms. "Rose?"

Heaving a sigh, and promptly giving up on her dismissal of his query, Rose replied, "I've lost it! I can't believe it."

She looked devastated, and his voice immediately softened. "Lost what?"

She mumbled something indiscernible.

"Pardon?"

"I said, I've lost my lucky bra."

He blinked at her.

"I can't find it anywhere." She began to count off on her fingers. "It's not in my room, or in my rucksack that I take to Mum's, or in the washing machine, or in the washing basket, or in the dryer - "

The Doctor tugged on his ear and interrupted, "Are you certain it's not, I don't know, under your bed or something? Your room is a _mess, _after all, don't know how you could find anything in there to be honest - " He noticed she was glaring at him so he closed his mouth with a click.

"Do you mind? This is serious, Doctor."

"Sorry." His brows drew together. "No, wait, why is this serious again? It's just a - just a -"

"Bra."

"Yes. Quite. What's so lucky about it? Why is it so important?"

Colour rose in her cheeks but she lifted her chin defiantly, as though ignoring the fact she was blushing all the way down to her collar bone. "It's my favourite. And I was wearing it when - well." She sniffed. "When a good thing or two happened."

"Oh…kay."

Rose huffed in frustration. "Look, you must have a mascot or a piece of clothing that you feel the same about, right? Everyone does. Has to be something that you consider lucky, yeah?"

His mouth tipped into a smile. "You mean, apart from you?"

Her eyes widened. So did his.

He started to stammer, "I meant, I just meant, you know, what we were saying, before - about Rome. About the - you know, Fortuna, and all that. That's all I was referring to. You remember? When we discussed how you were like my lucky pants - oh."

He watched Rose start to nod. "Okay, yeah, I remember. And see? Proves my point. Lucky underwear, it's a thing, right?"

"I see."

"So, gonna help me look for it?"

"What?" He gaped at her.

"My bra. Come on, Doctor. Be a mate and help me find it. It's got to be around here somewhere."

"Ah - um - I really should just - I have - " he squeaked out. "Repairs! That's what I have. TARDIS repairs, urgent, must dash - "

Rose darted in front of him, blocking his exit. "Wait. You're not telling me that you're like, squeamish about stuff like that. 'Cos seriously? Thought you'd be above all that rubbish, Doctor. You're like, centuries old. Why does a bra terrify you so much?"

"It doesn't _scare _me," he retorted, offended and indignant. "I just have better things to do than play hide and seek with your - undercrackers."

Rose burst out laughing. "Under-under _what?" _

He ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, stop it. Bra. Braaaaaaaaaa. See, I can say it. I'm not afraid. Stop laughing at me. Oh for goodness' sake, I'll help you find the bloody thing."

"Yes! Thank you!" She reached up and planted an audible kiss on his cheek, then scurried out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Come on, then. Maybe it's in the wardrobe room!"

He stared after her for a few moments, then finally got his legs back in working order. When he caught up with her in the corridor, he asked, "What does it look like, then?"

She gestured to her chest as she described the garment, and he couldn't quite tear his gaze away. "It's black and lacy and it has this tiny bow right about here." She pointed at her sternum.

"And how big is it?"

Rose stopped walking, and stared at him.

"What? Legitimate question."

"How many bras do you just have lying around up there, then?" she questioned, folding her arms. "That you wouldn't be able to tell which one's mine just by my description just now?"

He scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, I don't know! I've not perused the wardrobe room for garments of that nature before. Anyway." He sniffed, and looked her up and down. "I sculpted a perfect statue of you so you're probably right; I could guess yours just by looking."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What size, then?"

Coughing awkwardly, wondering how on Earth he managed to trap himself into this conversation, he managed to croak out, "Hmm, a 34…A - " She narrowed her eyes at him. "34B?" he tried.

She turned and resumed walking.

He felt victorious. "Am I right? I'm right, aren't I? Ha, told you I knew you too well."

"You probably just looked at one of the labels," she sniffed.

"Labels?" He lengthened his stride so that he could walk backwards in front of her, meeting her gaze. "You think I look at your underwear?"

"Well." She shrugged, and the way she sped up menacingly had him backing quite firmly into a coral strut without him realising. "Dunno, do I? All our clothes go in the same wash, sometimes."

"Yes. But! The TARDIS sorts through it, not me. I've never touched your - that. Those. Things of that nature."

"If you say so." She walked past him, into the wardrobe room.

He followed, partially because he didn't want to lose an argument, mostly because he'd follow her wherever she'd bloody go, _and_ she knew it. "Of course I don't! Do you really think I would disrespect you like that? Peruse and fondle like a - like a pervert!"

It was at this point that he realised that Rose was muffling her laughter with her hand.

"Oh, this is so funny to you, isn't it, winding me up, making me flustered. Well, you were right, earlier, Rose Tyler. I am nine hundred years old, I will not be fazed by some twenty year old human woman going on about her lucky lingerie - "

She whirled around again, teasing grin firmly in place. "Lingerie, eh? Superimposed that onto this conversation, Doctor."

"Well, you said - you said black and lacy and ribbon-y. I assumed…"

"What?" She stepped closer. "That it's sexy?"

"It…what?"

"Guess I can ask you, when we find it."

He gulped. "Ask me what?"

"If you think it's sexy."

"I…I don't know if I'd be the best judge of that."

"No? Must have seen some nice bras in your time, though, you being so old and all that."

He rolled his eyes. "Course. Yeah. Loads of 'em. Doesn't mean I'm an expert in what constitutes as _sexy. _Bit subjective, that, anyway."

"Sure. But, you know. Might be nice."

"What? What will?"

She shrugged, then shot him a coy smile. An utterly faked coy smile. This woman hadn't been coy in her life, he'd bet; not about this. "To figure out what your personal preference is."

"Rose," he said, his voice low. He tried to sound stern, but it just came out sort of gravelly.

"Come on then, stop hanging around, let's find it," she said brightly, and started lifting up the mess of clothes scattering the floor, hunting for it.

"Hold on," he realised. "Have you really no idea how to put things back on hangers? This place is as messy as your room!"

"Well, might've sort of got used to being in here alone," she defended, bending over again. Which was a bit distracting. He averted his eyes.

"Still. You could have the decency to tidy up."

"Not like you come in here, is it?"

"No, but - "

"What, worried anyone else you bring on board might raise an eyebrow?"

He sniffed, and leant against a rail of dresses. "Not really invited anyone else aboard for a while, you might've noticed."

"Well then. No problem, is there?"

"What if the reason I've not invited anyone else on board is because my current companion is so shamefully messy?"

She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. Her whole posture and expression was entirely captivating. "Is it?" she demanded.

He grinned. "No."

"Thought not." Then, she smirked. "We both know what the real reason is."

"Do we?"

"Yep." She bent down and lifted up a t-shirt, shaking it out, then throwing it back over her shoulder when it didn't spontaneously reveal her special bloody bra.

The next thing she lifted up left him staring fervently at the dress he was closest to, as though it held the answer to all his problems.

"Don't you want to know what I think that reason is, then?" she prompted, and in his peripheral vision he could see her twirling the knickers - scrap of fabric - _thong - _around her fingers.

She was provoking him, teasing him, goading him. He knew it, and he knew she knew he knew it. He let her do it anyway. "Go on then, what?" he replied, facing her again.

"It's because you want me and my lucky _lingerie _all. To. Yourself." She concluded her sentence by throwing the thong at him.

He desperately needed to regain the upper hand, here; if he'd indeed ever had it at all. So, he caught the thong, and he pocketed it. Her mouth dropped open. "Problem?" he asked, ignoring the blush staining his cheeks at his audacious move.

She rolled her shoulders back. "Nope. No problem."

"Good."

"You, er. You're not being very helpful with the quest, you know." She squinted at him. "Wait…not got any more of my underwear in those bigger on the inside pockets, have you?"

He made a squeaking noise in the back of his throat. Just like that, she'd got the upper hand back again. Bloody hell. "No, of course not!" He levelled her a glaring yet earnest look. "I'd never do that." Then, he tilted his head. "Not without your express permission."

To his frustration, Rose laughed. He could tell she was flustered though.

He found himself in the strange position of simultaneously wanting to just find her damn bra and wanting this game to never end.

Then, her gaze shifted to the left of him. "Oh!" she exclaimed, dashing over. "There it is!"

He turned, and saw her bra hanging from a hat stand in the corner of the room. "How on earth - " he began, then cut himself off. It was pointless asking; she was mysteriously able to get her stuff into every nook and cranny on the TARDIS. Just last week he'd found one of her slippers under the grating and a bottle of nail polish in his toolbox.

He kind of loved that about her.

She brought the bra over to him, beholding it reverently. "So, what do you think?" she asked, that bloody tongue of hers touching the corner of her mouth.

He shrugged. "Just a piece of fabric."

Rose stuck her tongue out at him.

"Would look better _on _you, I'm sure," he blurted out.

Her tongue retreated into her mouth, only to dart back out in order to wet her bottom lip. He couldn't take the words back, couldn't do anything, really, other than stare at that tongue and that lip and wish he could, in some way, get in on that action.

"Shall we test that?" she asked quietly, and when his eyes returned to meet hers, he realised she was nervous. Well, _good, _frankly; he was fucking terrified.

"If - if you want."

She smiled. Her top was off in three seconds, and the Doctor's head thunked against the wall.

"Oh."

"So, this one?" she asked, pointing at the pink one she was currently wearing. "Or…" She took it off, dropped it behind her to add to the clutter on the floor, and put the black one on, the lucky one, the one that seemed very, very, very lucky to him indeed in that moment. He hadn't been any sort of gentleman, hadn't averted his eyes when she'd made the exchange, but if the way her nipples were peaked was anything to go by, he didn't think she minded that very much. "…this one?" she finished, as she secured the clasp.

"Either," he squeaked. "Both."

"Nice?"

"Lovely."

"Sexy?"

"Sexy," he confirmed, with a quick nod.

"Do you know why this is my lucky bra, Doctor?"

"Noooooope. Why?"

"Because I was wearing this both the times my lips have touched yours, excluding the time in the toga, because I couldn't wear any bra under that thing."

"Oh, blimey," he replied, swallowing hard.

"And though the first time was necessary, to get the vortex out of me - "

"Well…" he murmured, inclining his head, pulling a face. Hadn't been strictly necessary, that.

"And though the second time was Cassandra in the driving seat…I still thought, maybe, you know. If I wore it enough, one day would be the day you kissed me for real."

"You do realise that that's just the law of averages rather than any inherent luck that particular bra bestows upon you, right?"

"Shh, don't ruin it," she said, laughter in her voice.

He suddenly found himself laughing, too. "Rose," he murmured, unable to stop smiling at her.

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

She grinned, stepping closer, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, fingers firmly securing around the bare skin of her hip and no doubt wondering how they got so lucky. Tilting his head down as she tilted hers up, he began to slowly close the distance between their lips.

Just before their mouths met, she whispered, "Reckon you can get this back on the hat stand from here?"

Needless to say, he took up that challenge, and succeeded, so when his lips eventually pressed against hers, there was a definite absence of lace against his shirt and a definite presence of perfect, pert Rose Tyler.


End file.
